Looking For the Bright Spot

Over time, when in a routine, our days begin to become one of sameness.  Repetition breeds familiarity and it is only with effort that we push ourselves beyond the well-trodden paths that become ruts.  Many times, failure, or at least a sense thereof, is the result of falling so deeply into those ruts that escape seems impossible and efforts futile.

A disciplined retraining of how we look at life is necessary to avoid such pitfalls.

There are many ways such retraining has been defined.  One is to count your blessings each day rather than to dwell on the struggles.  Another is to focus on the good rather than the bad.  I like to say that the key is in looking for the bright spots.  Search for things that bring joy, even if only fleetingly.

Those moments of joy can be as simple as a cup of coffee on the patio listening to the birds sing.  They might be found in a few minutes of devoted attention from a favorite pet.  For some it can be the voice of a friend over the telephone after an absence.  They are moments that resonate with vibrancy in our hearts and minds in ways that the humdrum existence of the familiar motions of getting through the day tend to muffle.

As I first sat at my desk this morning, I looked out the window to see a bright red Cardinal perched on the bird bath.  The vibrant color against the sea of greens, browns and grays of the normal day made me smile.  In Cherokee mythology the Cardinal is associated with the sun and is a symbol of protection and good luck.  Other myths link the Cardinal to visitation from a deceased relative or friend.  To me it was simply a pleasant beginning to the day.

Any time that I am out and about I am looking for those bright splashes of color.  Frequently it is the small birds of various species who flit between the trees in their search for food, but often it is the flowers.  Many of the flowers such as the pear and blackberry are white.  They are less easily spotted than one might expect.  The stark white blends into the mottled shadows at times and remain unnoticed until you are practically upon them.  Others, such as the pink of the Redbud trees which have now disappeared behind curtains of green, are easily spotted.  Most of those spring colors are gone, but yesterday I found one I had seen previously but never really investigated.

Oxalis articulata, the Pink Sorrel, is a beautiful plant that might be mistaken as a clover.  It is native to Northern Argentina, Southern Brazil and Uruguay but has been introduced throughout Europe and many other regions of the world primarily as a "window box" ornamental.  It grows from rhizomes which spread beneath the soil.  In some areas it is used as a cover crop and in others it is considered a nuisance weed.  It is also considered a symbol of good fortune.